Chapter Eighteen
SATURDAY, APRIL 12
Homeward bound!
Everyone knows there’s no place like home, and if you listen closely, you just might hear the click-click-click of my booted heels as I make like a wizard and fly.
Ever the multitasker, I’m posting from the spaceport while I wait to board the transport to Earth. If all goes according to plan, I’ll arrive at the customs checkpoint in Manhattan within a week, then spend the day catching up with Aelyx before heading to Midtown for a weekend with my family and friends. After that, it’s back to New York for the alliance ceremony. I hope you’ll turn out to celebrate the marriage of our worlds. L’eihrs and humans have a lot to offer each other, and I’d love to see a show of support from my fellow earthlings.
I’m not granting any interviews at this time, but if you see me, make sure to say hello. It should be easy to spot me. I’ll be the one double-fisting Reese’s Cups with a chocolate malt chaser. (Shh…don’t tell my nutrition counselor.)
Posted by Cara Sweeney
Cara waited for her post to upload to the satellite before shutting down her laptop and tucking it inside her shoulder bag. With her blog updated, she stood and scanned the bustling terminal to gauge how much time she had before boarding.
The luggage carts had vanished since she’d sat down to type her post, along with the dozen or so crates bearing the nanotechnology to neutralize Earth’s prolific algae blooms—a long-awaited Happy Alliance Day! gift to mankind. Crew members worked in near-perfect unison to fit passengers with travel bands and haul supplies through the tunnel leading to the cargo hold.
When the metal-grated ramp descended from the boarding corridor, Cara knew it wouldn’t be much longer before her travel band started buzzing. The crew was probably waiting for The Way’s private shuttle to arrive. The head Elders always boarded first, kind of like business-class-elite passengers back home.
That was fine by Cara. Let them go ahead of her. She was in no hurry to entomb herself inside a hotel-size tin can and hurtle through invisible wormholes. Light speed made Cara toss her cookies—or l’arun, as it were.
A flicker of sunlight from the nearest spaceport window caught Cara’s eye, and she strode toward the thick glass pane for one last look at L’eihr. How had three months flown by so quickly? She still remembered the thrill she’d felt when shuttling down, the wonderment of glimpsing this alien world for the first time. She’d been so desperate to capture more of the landscape’s beauty that she hadn’t blinked. It was stunning now, even from a distance—the planet a muted cornflower blue with swirls of caramel and cream.
But the exchange had taught her that beauty wasn’t enough. Cara hadn’t told anyone, but she was 99 percent sure she wasn’t coming back.
Contrary to what she’d once posted on the blog, her important work for the colony was anything but. In truth, Cara had quit trying to make the development panel see reason. The past two weeks had been a constant battle, and when the council refused to budge on the colonist requirements—lest humans “taint L’eihr progeny with inferior genetic material”—she’d issued a silent retreat. Mentally, she was tired: of fighting to preserve her basic human rights, of dodging leaders she’d sworn to obey, of hostile strangers framing her for capital offenses, of pretending it would get better with time.
Cara felt the pull of home like an irresistible force of gravity leading her back to where she belonged. She wanted to be a normal teenager again, to go to college and spend her nights reading and studying and watching Doctor Who reruns. She wanted to eat pizza and wear jeans and openly disagree with her leaders without facing an electric lash.
For the last several months, she’d carried a tremendous burden, slinging the fate of Earth across her back like Atlas—something no seventeen-year-old should have to do. Wasn’t she entitled to a break?
She thought so.
But an invisible weight crushed her chest as she stared out the port window. A life on Earth meant a future without Aelyx, something she couldn’t imagine without tears rushing her vision. Stars blurred into a wet glow, and when she blotted her eyes, a distant smudge of brilliance came into view—the angel nebula, tentacles of pink and violet stretched in triumph over the darkness.
Aelyx’s words rang in her head, so full of hope that it tightened the pressure around her lungs. Every time you see it, I want you to think of me. Soon we’ll stand together and watch the L’eihr sky from our colony. Moisture welled again in Cara’s eyes. Even if she were able to visit him, the life they had envisioned was gone, and the pain of that loss threatened to double her over.
Why couldn’t he stay on Earth for her? Didn’t he love her enough?
The travel band around her wrist buzzed an alert. It was time to board the transport and face the long, nauseating journey home. She swiped beneath her eyes and dried her tears. At least she couldn’t feel any worse.
Cara was eating those words the next morning as she hugged her chamber’s toilet receptacle and dry-heaved for the umpteenth time. She coughed and retched in vain, having long ago emptied the contents of her stomach.
Groaning, she wiped her mouth on her tunic sleeve, cursing herself for not visiting the infirmary yesterday. She had hoped to overcome speed sickness—supposedly, the whole thing was psychological—but to hell with it. Next time she’d ask for an injection the instant she stepped aboard the ship.
Wait.
She froze with her head above the toilet rim. There wouldn’t be a next time, would there? Cara’s stomach turned heavy and sank in a way that had nothing to do with nausea. This was her last voyage. She’d never again explore the wonders beyond Earth’s stratosphere, never catalog her discoveries on the colony or learn what creatures skittered beneath the crashing waves. That was almost as depressing as losing Aelyx.
Almost.
But she couldn’t think about that now, not if she wanted to survive the day. Pushing the dark thoughts from her head, she crawled to the wall, then used it to right herself. Once standing, she made her way into the hallway and hugged the corridor railing until she made it to the infirmary. She didn’t expect to find Jaxen inside waiting for her.
“It took you long enough.” Jaxen smiled, shaking his head at her. “A less stubborn girl would have taken the injection before departure.”
Cara slogged past him and collapsed onto the steely table, grateful to find it pre-warmed. She ignored Jaxen and glanced at the medic, a senior she recognized as one of Elle’s classmates. “Speed sickness,” Cara said in L’eihr. “I’m deyhdr—”
“Oddly, your stubbornness has always appealed to me,” Jaxen interrupted. “It shows mental fortitude.” He turned to the medic and locked eyes with the girl. After a few seconds of Silent Speech, the medic nodded and began gathering supplies.
“What did you tell her?” Cara eyed him suspiciously. Knowing Jaxen, he’d ordered the medic to slip her a roofie.
“Nothing of concern.” He gestured toward the girl, who filled a syringe with milky-colored fluid. “Simply to administer the standard antiemetic drug, followed by electrolytes.”
The medic wasted no time in carrying out Jaxen’s commands. Cara gritted her teeth when the needle pierced her skin, but relief was instantaneous and definitely worth the pain. The roiling inside her stomach stilled, allowing her to drink a vial of syrupy fluid. Within the span of five minutes, she felt human again.
Cara hopped down from the table, keeping hold of the ledge until her legs proved seaworthy. Or rather, spaceworthy. When her knees held firm, she thanked the medic and took a step toward the door, but then her brain spun a double pirouette, forcing her to clutch the wall.
Whoa.
Was it her imagination, or had the floor just tilted thirty degrees? She blinked a few times, and suddenly she was in Jaxen’s arms. He scooped her up like a bride and strode into the hallway as if the ship hadn’t done a reverse barrel roll.
“What just happened?” Cara rested her head against Jaxen’s chest. The act was too intimate for her liking, but her neck muscles had gone slack and left her no choice.
“I also told the medic to administer a sleep aid,” Jaxen confessed as he carried her toward her room. “Clearly, you need rest.”
Oh, God. He had slipped her a roofie!
After all the years she’d waited for the right time to play her v-card, she was going to lose it to a creeper like Jaxen? Hell, no. She tried to scream for help, but all she could manage was a garbled slur.
Think, Cara. Don’t panic!
She closed her eyes for a moment to focus, and when she opened them again, she was lying on her cot with Jaxen kneeling by her side. Panic flashed through her, but a quick inventory revealed her uniform was still intact, all the way down to her boots. She released a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d overreacted.
Jaxen covered her with a blanket and sat on the edge of her mattress. “Sleep well,” he whispered. She felt a pinch at her wrist and glanced down to find a flash of silver and blood. Then Jaxen swiped at the wound with something resembling a fountain pen before tucking it inside his tunic pocket.
What just happened? Had he given her another shot?
Cara didn’t ponder the question much longer. Her twenty-pound eyelids slid shut, and she drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep.